


Trusting Harry

by lwtbitch



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Rape/Non-con, Underage Rape/Non-con, but h and l go on a date, but it is mentioned, but trigger warning just in case, it sucks so bad, it's kind of dark at first, kind of, not really - Freeform, self-harm scars, this shouldn't be a trigger warning, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwtbitch/pseuds/lwtbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"thank you for trusting me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trusting Harry

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this really sucks. i'm v sorry. i tried editing it, but that didn't really go well at all. i wrote this forever ago, so just please bear with me.

I ran as fast as I could, Peter's words replaying in my head as my legs carried me: "You're a suicidal pussy that should just fucking commit already. It would be doing everyone in England a favour."

The two years I spent with him meant nothing anymore. Peter was my first for many things: first kiss, first boyfriend, first intimate relationship. The first person I truly trusted with everything. He knew all my secrets, all the right buttons to press, and all the wrong ones. I shared personal details about my life with him: about my uncle, about my father, about my step-mum, about my biological mum. Hours upon hours of vulnerability eventually led to this moment. The moment he fucked everything up.

Because my mind was spiralling into the dark recess of my past, I hadn't noticed I had stopped in front of my favourite cafe. Being late August, I sat at an iron table outside with matching iron chairs. The view of the sunset was magnificent; shades of pinks and oranges littered the sky, overpowering the once blue canvas. I smiled to myself as a lone tear slid down my cheek. Whenever I was feeling suicidal, Peter would pick me up at my house around this time and would drive me to the beach, to watch the sun set over the ocean. "If you die, you won't be able to see this tomorrow. Or the next day, or the day after that," he would whisper in my ear. I would smile and kiss his cheek, thanking him for being there.

But now, because of a goddamn argument, my safe haven was gone. I didn't have anyone to turn to; I was an only child with only my physically abusive father and verbally abusive step-mum still alive. My biological mum was a raging alcoholic, so "to keep me safe," my father filed for divorce when I was two. In a drunken stupor, my mum "kidnapped" me for two nights when I was five; my father found me in the park in the early morning, my mum passed out next to me, which landed my mum in prison.

But my father had his own problems as well. Once he filed for divorce, he met Susan. With her long brown hair, she swept my father off his feet; they eloped four months after their first date. I was six.

The only people at the ceremony were me, my father, Susan, and Susan's brother - Tommy. With his shiny head of brown curls, one would say he was a charming lad; I would say otherwise.

At the ceremony, Susan had me wear a dashing grey suit, topped off with a black clip-on tie. Tommy had been extremely kind and gentle; he promised me a box of sweets if I managed to stay calm during the ceremony. Being a six-year-old, I had zipped my lips and sat still like a good boy.

"Okay Lou, let's go get your sweets!" Tommy smiled after the ceremony ended. I jumped up and down, a huge smile beaming on my face. He grabbed my hand forcefully and lead me towards a storage closet.

"Ow," I whimpered. "That hurts."

His grip had tightened on my hand, causing me to feel pins and needles. He forced open the door and threw me against the floor. He shoved my trousers down and tore my pants off. I didn't understand what had happened in that storage closet until I was thirteen; all I knew was it hurt like hell.

Every year around Christmas, my father, Susan, and I would visit Tommy. The forced sexual contact repeated every year, in various rooms around his house. His favourite spot was the laundry room; I understood why. Something about the way the washer moved made him feel like he could treat me that way, I guess. Every year I was sexually abused. And every year I tried to tell my father, but I would get a slap across the face and my step-mum yelling at me, "Don't you dare lie to me or your father, Louis William."

I was brought back to reality when a lad with brown, curly hair approached me cautiously. "Are you alright?" he asked in an annoyingly slow voice.

I wiped away any tears that might have fallen and answered, "Fine. I'm just fine."

I tensed up as he pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. "Are you sure? Because you don't look fine to me."

He gently lay his hands atop mine and I instinctually flinched. Even with therapy for my PTSD, I refused to talk to anyone with curly hair. Well, just curly-headed blokes. I pulled my hands away two seconds after he placed his over mine, my phone vibrating with an incoming call.

_Incoming call: Peter <3_

I declined the call, letting it go to voicemail. Staring down at my phone screen, I saw my arms out of my peripheral vision; scars like railroad tracks running up and down the porcelain skin. Cutting had been the only option to take away the pain of Tommy, to take away the stress, to take away the shame. I felt yet another tear escape, letting it travel down to my black teeshirt shirt. The curly haired boy wiped it away with the pad of his thumb, causing me to tense up yet again.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he soothed.

"How do I know that?" I shot back, worry evident in my voice.

"You're just going to have to trust me."

"I don't know what 'trust' is anymore," I commented, my phone vibrating once more.

_New voicemail: Peter <3_

"Who's Peter?" he questioned, peering at my phone.

"It's complicated," I mumbled, trying to brush off the subject.

"You won't tell me," he said and I nodded my head, confirming his statement. "I'm guessing it's because you don't know me." I nodded again. "Okay. Well, for starters, my name's Harry. I live down the street, fourth house on the right. I have an older sister named Gemma and a pussycat named Dusty. Um, my favourite colour is pink, my best friend is Niall, and my favourite food is tacos."

"Just because you listed off random facts about yourself doesn't mean I trust you," I retorted.

"Then let me take you out," he smiled. "I apologise, I didn't catch your name."

“That’s because I didn’t tell you,” I rolled my eyes, annoyed.

Harry’s lips turned upwards, smirking, as he asked, “Well?”

"Louis," I mumbled, running my hand through my hair.

"Louis," he whispered, imprinting the name to memory. "That's a fitting name for a fit lad."

"Cheeky," I laughed, smiling slightly for the first time all week.

"I know," he winked. "So meet me here in an hour, yeah? And wear something nice. Not too fancy though."

I smiled and nodded my head. "Okay," I agreed. I turned to leave and realised that I'd be going back to my flat to change, where Peter probably was. I muttered "fuck" and jogged to catch up with Harry.

"Louis? I thought you were going back to your flat," he said, startled.

"I was, but I realised that I can't. Peter..."

I felt myself tear up again, but this time, instead of sitting at an iron table by myself, Harry was in front of me. He pulled me into a hug, rubbing his hand up and down my back. "Don't cry, love. Everything will be alright."

"No it won't. You don't understand," I cried, tears staining his blue tee shirt. I looked up into his emerald eyes. "I can't… I can’t go..."

Harry walked us back to the iron table and chairs. He sat down next to me and wrapped my hands in his large ones. "I hate seeing people cry, love. Please. Tell me what happened."

I explained everything: from my uncle, to my father and Susan. From my cutting to my mum. And finally, to Peter. "I don't even remember what we were fighting about," I whispered, tears falling freely down my face. "I said some things, which led to Peter yelling at me to kill myself because it would be doing everyone in England a favour."

"He left you a voicemail, yeah?" Harry asked, to which I nodded my head. "Let me see your phone."

I pulled my sleek, white iPhone from my back pocket and cautiously handed it over to the curly haired bloke. I watched as he unlocked it and tapped around on the touchscreen until he finally brought up my voicemail. "Can I listen?" he questioned. I nodded my head again and he tapped on the Play button and put it on speaker.

"Hey baby," Peter started. "Look, I know you're pissed off at me right now, but I didn't mean anything I said earlier. I'm sorry, Lou. Please, come back. You're my everything and I can't afford to lose you. I'm fucking afraid that you're at the bottom of the ocean right now or that you're hanging from the ceiling. So please, I'm begging you, come home as soon as you get this. I'm so fucking sorry, Lou. I didn't mean any of it. You're amazing, scars and all. Phone me back when you get this. I love you."

I sighed, resting my head in the crooks of my elbow. Harry probably thought I was some suicidal freak that should be institutionalised. Some first impression I'm making. Great job, Lou. Keep up the fantastic work.

Harry lifted my head from my elbow and softly grabbed my arms, turning them to face him. He inaudibly gasped as he took in the full extent of my scars. "Lou," he breathed.

I hung my head, ashamed. It was all Tommy's fault. If I had never met that horrible excuse for a person, I wouldn't feel the need to self harm. Another tear fell and Harry wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

"Hey, let's go back to my flat, yeah?" Harry smiled sympathetically. "I might have something you would fit into."

I felt a hand on the small of my back, slowly rubbing small circles. I looked up and saw Harry's face, inches from mine. I unintentionally tensed up; thank you Tommy.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Lou," he soothed, still rubbing my back. "I would never think about doing something as awful as Tommy did to you. You're too special."

I smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's cheek. "Thank you," I mumbled before standing up and braiding my fingers through his.

He walked me down the street, stopping in front of a small two-story house. He unlocked the front door and led me upstairs towards his room. “Feel free to rummage through my dresser and borrow anything you want. It might be a little large on you, but I think it’s attractive when guys wear my clothing,” he winked. “I’ll be down in the living room if you need me. My sister should also be home, too. Find either of us if you need anything.”

A few minutes later, I found a white teeshirt and jean button-up that were both a size too big, discarding the shirt already on my back. I quickly changed and fixed my hair, re-tying the laces on my black vans before shuffling down the stairs.

Harry was waiting in the living room, sitting on the sofa scrolling through his phone. He was clad in a dark grey Pink Floyd tee shirt, grey jeans, and black Oxfords. He immediately sat up as soon as he saw me and strolled towards me. "You look amazing," he whispered, gently kissing my cheek.

"Thanks," I blushed, fixing my hair again, nervous.

Harry grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together. I pushed aside the fear of the past repeating itself, attempting to enjoy the moment. "I'm going to warn you right now," I started, fear unintentionally bubbling in my stomach. "I'm really paranoid. Tommy really fucked with my head. I don't know why but I just -”

Harry stopped walking and turned towards me. "You don’t have to be scared, Lou. I swear, I won’t try anything."

"I understand but your hair, it just --"

He pulled me into a hug and pressed a kiss to my hair. "Let's go buy me a hat," he said cheekily, tilting my head up to send me a wink.

We walked towards a small shoppe, the walls lined with hats and wigs. I heard a laugh escape my lips as Harry grabbed a rainbow clown wig and tried it on. He also shoved a pair of oversized sunglasses up his nose. "How do I look?" he asked seriously.

"Like a killer clown," I laughed.

He chuckled, taking off the wig and sunglasses. He walked towards the beanies and tucked back his hair before placing a grey slouch beanie on his head. "Better?"

I nodded my head and bit my lip. He looked really fit and I had to ignore the voice in the back of my head telling me to kiss him. He took it off his head and walked towards the till, taking out his wallet.

"That'll be £7.99," the lady behind the counter said.

Harry handed her a £10 note and told her to keep the change. He ripped off the tags and shoved his hair back again before putting the beanie back on. "You're cute," I smiled, lacing my fingers back through his.

"You're beautiful," he blushed, kissing my forehead softly.

A blush crept up towards my cheeks and I dropped my head in embarrassment. "No one's told me that before," I mumbled.

"Bullshit," Harry laughed. "Not even Peter?"

I shook my head. "He rarely complimented me. Now that I think back, I'm glad we had that fight this morning because I never would've met you."

"I'm glad too," Harry smiled, stopping us in front of a pizza parlour. He opened the door for me and motioned for me to walk through. I mumbled a "thanks" and stepped up towards the huge menu hanging on the wall. "What do you want?" he asked, placing his hand on the small of my back. "You can get anything. It's my treat."

"I just want a slice of cheese with Pepsi," I said, staring up into his eyes.

"Nothing else?"

I shook my head and rested it on his chest. Harry shuffled up to the till and spoke our order: two slices of cheese pizza, two medium Pepsis, and an order of garlic knots. The man gave us our number and we sat down at a booth in a corner.

Ten minutes later, we got our food and drinks and Harry and I were chatting aimlessly.

"I'm really glad I could take you out," Harry smiled, a smidgen of red visible on his cheeks.

"Me too," I smiled, taking a bite of pizza.

"Lou?" I heard someone say. I turned my head towards the voice and mumbled inaudible curses.

"Hi Peter," I mumbled as he approached me and Harry.

"Who's this?" he questioned forcefully, motioning his head in Harry's direction.

"Louis’s date for the evening," Harry smiled politely.

"Well I hate to interrupt, but your cute, little date is over now. Let's go home, Lou."

Peter grabbed my wrist forcefully. I tore it out of his grasp and stood up. "No," I spat. "You can't force me to do anything."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"What I mean is, our relationship ended when you told me to fucking kill myself," I half yelled, the anger boiling in the veins.

"You know I didn't mean that," Peter said, his eyes watering slightly.

"Either way, you had no right," I snapped, coldly. "Now leave me and Harry alone."

I sat back down and took a sip of my Pepsi. I smiled at Harry and waited for Peter to leave. Five awkward minutes later, Harry and I finished our meal, Peter still standing next to our booth. "Let's go," Harry smiled, reaching for my hand.

We pushed past Peter, leaving him standing teary-eyed in the middle of the pizza parlour. Harry laced his fingers with mine and we strolled back towards his house. We walked up towards the front door, Harry swiftly unlocking it. "You can take off your shoes," Harry smiled as we entered the living room.

I slipped off my Vans as Harry unlaced his Oxfords. He sat down on the sofa and pulled me into his lap. "Thank you for trusting me tonight," he whispered, resting his forehead on mine.

I closed my eyes and slipped off his beanie. I ran my hands through his soft hair, letting my fingers twirl around a few curls. I cautiously opened my eyes, meeting his soft green ones. I pulled back and stared at his chocolatey curls, forcing the fear away. I smiled as the paranoia subsided and softly kissed his nose. "Thank you for giving me the time to learn to trust again."

He smiled and softly pressed his lips to mine, cradling my face in his hands. He pulled away and smiled. "I'll give you all the time in the world, baby."

A smile danced across my lips and I laid my head on his chest. It was crazy that in one night, my whole world was turned upside down; I learned how to trust again. And it was all thanks to a curly haired boy named Harry.

 

**Author's Note:**

> lmao that sucked i'm v sorry. but i'm moving from wattpad and attempting to bring all my works over. i'm heavily editing them though. but this one couldn't be saved. oops.


End file.
